


We Don't Talk About It

by bxdhabits



Category: Alex Turner - Fandom, Arctic Monkeys, Last Shadow Puppets, Miles Kane - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Domestic Violence, Happy Ending, M/M, POV First Person, Violence, milex - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 18:01:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7767730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bxdhabits/pseuds/bxdhabits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miles reflects on a traumatic period of Alex's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Don't Talk About It

**Author's Note:**

> Again this fic is quite depressing, but (for once in my life) I have given Alex and Miles a happy ending!!!
> 
> Domestic violence is a topic quite close to me and therefore I found this quite hard to write, and I will warn you now that it may be quite difficult to read, but nevertheless I hope you enjoy it :)

I don’t even remember when it started, but I’m sure it’s all you can think about. We don’t talk about it because I can’t drag up the pain and the terror and the anger; but even so, I wonder about it. I look at you, your mop of tousled brown hair that matches the darkness of your brooding eyes, and I wonder how anybody could have ever hurt you. How anybody could go out of their way to tell you that you’re nothing, when by simply existing you are everything. I cannot help but wonder.

Years ago, you practically bounced into the cafeteria at college, your smile shined through the crowds of bored A-level students with anxious faces for the future. You sat down opposite me and your eyes begged me to ask you what you had been up to, what had happened to make you this happy and I was happy to oblige.  
“I met somebody.”  
Your reason was simple but reason enough, the rest of the table jeered and teased and slapped your back, only making your grin stretch to an almost face splitting width. You looked so cute and it only made the sinking feeling in my stomach go deeper; but I forced a smile along with everyone else, because I was genuinely happy for you, I really was. All I could ever want is for you to be happy, I tell you that all the time and you look at me curiously and peck me on the lips, because you don’t realise that I’ve seen you go from the epitome of happiness to the bottom of hopelessness and back again. You didn’t deserve to go on that journey.

For a few months we started seeing you less outside of college, but nobody saw that as out of the ordinary. Your relationship still felt new, you rushed off after your lessons each day to meet up with Him or would decline weekend plans to go on dates and we would let you because it felt normal. Your presence was missed more than I think you know; your sharp tongue that quickened in wit the more we drank and your maniacal laugh that only escaped your mouth when something was truly hilarious. We missed you, perhaps me the most, but I kept telling myself that this was normal.

I met you outside for a cigarette in our lunchbreak a few weeks later and I couldn’t help but notice the dark rings that had settled under your eyes and the paleness of your already paper skin, your hands shook and I asked you if everything was okay.  
“S’nothing.”  
You’ve never been a man of many words, but even for you this was a blunt response considering our closeness.  
“Al,” I made you look me straight in the eyes, a method that always made you cave in and reveal all.  
“We had an argument,” you sniffed, taking a heavy drag on your cigarette, “It’ll be fine.”  
I thought that was it, that you simply felt so strongly for him that arguing with him really made you that upset. I even felt relieved, because we hadn’t spoken out of college in so long, yet you could still tell me your secrets just like before. It took me far too long to realise that even then, you were lying to me.

The others started getting annoyed at you as the time passed and you still wouldn’t hang out with us outside of college. It was a running joke at first, when one of us rang you and you declined whatever offer we had, that you were so whipped on him you couldn’t tear yourself away for just one evening. But the joke grew old fast, the others would sneer whenever I suggested inviting you to things, would tell me it was a waste of time. That it was clear you had put him first and didn’t give a fuck about us anymore, so why bother? They stopped bothering with you because they thought you didn’t care about them and I would frown and argue because I knew you and that wasn’t how you were at all. One of the reasons you are so likable is your pure loyalty to your friends, how you will do anything for them because of what they do for you in return. These days I have to convince you that you’re liked by more people than just me, that you’re a likable person at all, and I don’t mind honestly; you’ll get your confidence back and you’ll see in yourself what we all see in you, I promise.

We only met him once as a group, on your birthday. You feebly invited us round to yours for a few drinks and we accepted with hesitance; the air was awkward between us during that conversation, we had all been friends since high school and it was heart breaking. We all arrived together carrying crates and bottles to find him already there. He towered over your small 5’10” frame and a muscular arm stayed gripped on your shoulder for the entirety of the night. We attempted conversation with him and got fickle responses, so we stopped trying. We talked between ourselves in your house like you weren’t even there, and to be honest you may as well have not been; you stayed huddled in a corner with him, looking over at us from time to time but always staying in his reach. He was a hunter who held his prey as a trophy for all of us to see, he was proud of you, he expected us to be jealous that he had caught you. We left early and you awkwardly waved us off, we walked in silence on the way home.

In college you became isolated, you were far too understanding when everyone turned their nose up at you and accepted your fate too easily. It broke my heart to see you sit alone in the cafeteria or stumble further away than necessary from us to smoke, but I think you knew the damage you had done by pushing the others away. We were young and friendships were more fickle and sensitive back then, but it still destroyed me to see you alone like that. On the rare occasion now that we talked you would insist that you were fine, tried to make me believe your perfect fantasy so much that your fists would clench and your voice would break. You told me you didn’t need anything but his love and nobody else could see that but you. I told you that I missed your friendship and you swatted me away like an irritating fly, told me to move on and leave you to get on with your life with him. In disbelief I did what I was told and trudged back to the group, and I can never forgive myself. If I had argued with you, told you how stupid and selfish you were being maybe you would have seen sense and came back to us. Came back to me. But I didn’t do any of those things, because I thought you were happy, and all I ever want is for you to be happy.

Summer was approaching and I was scared of you turning invisible. The only glances I ever got of you were during college, and without that factor I feared I’d have to go six weeks without seeing your beautiful elfin face. Our last day of term was intensely warm, especially for the North of England, and saw the majority of our schoolmates getting their pale British skin out in shorts and vests. I’ve always found it funny how you completely reject summer attire and will happily sweat buckets wearing a jumper under a summer sun; that time was no different, we watched you from our usual smoking spot light up in your Adidas jumper despite the sweltering heat. You scowled up at the sun and begrudgingly hoisted your jumper over your head, dragging your T shirt up with it.

I stopped, the entire universe stopped in that moment to watch your T shirt ride up your slim torso and leaving your pale arms exposed; the world only started turning again when I felt a sting in the corner of my eyes as the blackness and the blueness of your bruises eclipsed the sun.

So no, we don’t talk about it. We don’t talk about I couldn’t stop myself from running to you and grabbing you by your shaking wrists on that terrible summers day. We don’t talk about how I led you away from everything as you began to crumble, or about how you destroyed those walls you took so long to build and told me everything. I don’t talk about the look of sheer terror that widened your eyes and tightened your jaw as you begged me not to tell anybody, even though you knew I couldn’t sit there and let this continue. We don’t talk about any of the countless times that you showed up at my house in the middle of night because you couldn’t sleep so I would hold your quivering body until you did. We don’t talk about the kisses we shared to pacify your worries and your stifled cries.

We don’t talk about the first time I told you I loved you in my bedroom at 5AM, or how you didn’t believe me and called it pity. Or how you told me that nobody could love you and how hard my heart shattered.

We will talk about the bad times. We both need to, for closure and reasoning and acceptance, we need to. But not just yet, not until you’re okay with it. Just know that I love you, that I’m proud of you and I’ll be here when you’re ready.


End file.
